


fun in the sun

by vandenburg



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, F/F, Feel-good, Mutual Pining, kissing in the forest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 20:46:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14880920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vandenburg/pseuds/vandenburg
Summary: Beau is enjoying her gig as a camp councillor more than she thought she would, but that probably has to do with the tall drink of water she has a major crush on.





	fun in the sun

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes u just gotta write some sweet lesbian fluff. unfortunately, all i know about american summer camp is what i learned from 'the parent trap'

”Help, help, I’m drowning!” 

Beau’s head snaps to attention and she immediately looks to the lake. There Fjord is, happily reclined in the water wearing a smirk and raised eyebrows. She groans and adjusts her cap. “Not funny,” she yells and throws a pebble in his general direction, but it lands several feet in front of him with the tiniest splash known to mankind.

“Should’ve signed up for the makeup station if you wanted to look at Yasha all day,” he says in his Texan drawl.

There’s no point in denying that she was staring; she broke about two days ago and admitted her crush to Fjord after Yasha gave her the pudding she didn’t want herself and left Beau speechless for a solid minute. It’s still embarrassing to be acting like the kids they’re keeping an eye on when she’s supposed to be 24, though.

Unable to keep herself from it, she glances back at Yasha, who’s in command of the obstacle course, which has been produced for this day only. They have a competition going, and soon the teams will approach Beau and Fjord and take turns to canoe back and forth over the lake as a part of the competition. Beau would’ve joined Yasha on the obstacle course, but it’s a bad day for her back, her slipped disc giving her more problems than the usual, and swimming is infinitely better for the pain than crawling around on the course. 

Hence her best viewing spot would be from the little booth Jester and Nott have set up for facial painting. Their results vary. Jester’s are technical masterpieces but her subjects are sometimes odd – what kid wants to be drawn like a donut or a tennis ball? – and Nott’s subjects are traditional, like butterflies or ladybugs, but her technical skill is far below decent.

“Hard pass,” she insists to Fjord, who sighs.

“You know, you can just _talk_ to her.”

Beau looks back at him, eyebrows raised. “I can _what_?”

“Talk?” he repeats, looking amused. “Just tell her you like the obstacle course or somethin’. Ask her about her interests. That kind of stuff.”

“Have you _met_ me? _Or_ her? She talks even less than me!”

“Now _that’s_ not hard,” he counters good-naturedly. “You talk a lot, you just can’t say the right thing.”

She stares at him, incredulous. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

He shrugs. “It’s not supposed to do anythin’, it’s just the truth. But I do think you should stop makin’ puppy-dog eyes at her and hopin’ she gets the hint.”

“But that’s how I usually do these things. That’s my _one_ move!” 

“Yeah? And how well has that worked out for you so far?”

She grimaces, then scowls at him and throws another pebble. “What if she’s not interested?”

“That’s the risk you take, and somethin’ tells me you’re not _that_ scared of takin’ risks.”

“That’s…” She looks at the ground, embarrassed. “That’s actually kinda nice. Thanks, Fjord.”

“You’re welcome, but now’s the time to look at the water; they’re comin’ in.”

 

***

 

The sun is setting when Beau finally gets out of the water. Yasha watches her, brows furrowed in concern, as she wraps herself in a towel and heads to the main building in a slight jog. Her body is shaking from cold and exhaustion, and there is a pronounced limp to her step that slows her down and makes her scrunch up her facial features.

Yasha herself has just finished packing up the obstacle course, with the well-meaning but terrible help of Caleb, who has set her back half an hour rather than sped up the process, but she appreciates the symbolism of the gesture. From what she could hear from the others, one of the kids lost their crutch, which they’d foolishly brought onto the canoe rather than keep on shore. The camp leader had at first regretfully told the kid they’d have to get a hold of another, but then Beau and Fjord volunteered to dive down for it. The lake isn’t deep by any measurement, but it’s not entirely clean or very warm in this weather, particularly at this hour, so Yasha was surprised to see their commitment.

Evidently, Fjord must’ve headed back before Beau for some reason, and without Yasha noticing.

With a quick glance around the camp, Yasha starts walking towards Beau’s pitiful jogging form, who still has a little ways to go before she’ll reach any of the buildings. Once they’re close enough so that Yasha doesn’t have to raise her voice much, she calls out, “Beau!”

At once, Beau snaps up her head to look at Yasha, her wet hair falling into her eyes a little bit in a way that squeezes at Yasha’s chest. Said eyes go wide for a moment and she nearly stumbles on those shaking legs of hers. “Y-Yasha,” she manages, her teeth clattering.

Oh boy.

Feeling incredibly awkward, Yasha zips down her workout hoodie and pulls it off her arms. It has to be at _least_ three sizes too big for Beau, who isn’t so much _small_ as Yasha is just very big. But… it has to be better than that damp towel.

“Here,” she says, her voice sounding as uncertain as the rest of her body is, and crosses the last space between them to hold out her hoodie. “Put this on. Before you… freeze to death.”

There is no objection from Beau: she wordlessly shrugs off the towel, hands it to Yasha, and then hurries to slip on the hoodie. As expected, it looks sort of ridiculous on her and sort of adorable. The sight of Beau, who’s usually so… boisterous and self-assured in clothing that dwarfs her, and with wet hair and a completely clean face to boot… it adds more pressure to Yasha’s chest, and she has to try not to smile. Her hands clutch the towel hard.

“Thanks,” Beau finally breathes out and goes to work on the zipper, but her fingers must be numb from the cold because for all that she struggles, she can’t seem to be able to close it.

“Here, let me,” Yasha says quietly and steps into what is definitely Beau’s personal bubble, but again there is no complaint or protest as Yasha takes hold of the zipper and carefully, slowly glides it up the front of Beau’s torso, wrapping shining, skin-tight bathing suit in a protective layer of cotton. The zipper lands on Beau’s throat. Yasha releases it and steps back. And breathes – for what feels like the first time in her life. “There.”

“Thanks,” Beau repeats, and Yasha has her eyes firmly concentrated on the ground; she doesn’t feel brave enough to look up and discover Beau’s reaction to such an intimate moment. Yasha isn’t sure what to make of it herself.

“Just… return it to me tomorrow,” she says and hands her back the towel. “Good night.”

As she walks away from Beau, she goes to bury her hands in her pockets, before she remembers that with the loss of her hoodie, she doesn’t have any left.

 

***

 

“Beau and Yasha sitting in a tree,” Jester sings cheerfully, as though she intends to braid the words into the masterpiece she’s creating on the top of Kiri’s head.

Mortified, Beau lunges for Jester and slaps a hand over her mouth before the kids can catch onto the material of the song. Kids aren’t stupid, and for some reason this is the age at which they _really_ care about the love lives of the adults in their lives.

Jester bites her hand, hard, and Beau draws it back with a hiss. From against Jester’s chest, Kiri sings, “Beau and Yasha sitting in a tree,” in a tone so eerily close to Jester’s that Beau _swears_ she can hear the Slavic accent in there.

Beau groans. “Kiri, please… will you please not tell the other kids that?”

Kiri purses her lips. She’s twelve, smack-dab in the middle of the age range of the campers, but in many ways she doesn’t act like the other kids. Beau isn’t sure what exactly her brain is up to, but in any case she _can_ speak for herself, she just prefers to repeat others. Sometimes they make her make up words herself, but they’re all exhausted after a long day of activities – mostly cleaning, which is _Hell_ to coach 10- to 14-year-olds through – so Beau and Jester let her do whatever she wants.

Plus, Kiri has them wrapped around her pinky. She could probably commit murder and they would still swear she’s the sweetest girl they’ve ever met.

“Not tell the others,” Kiri agrees and resumes her drawing.

“Sorry, Beau, I didn’t mean it like that,” Jester says. “I just get so excited about love.”

“Whoa, hey, nobody’s saying anything about love. Just a crush, that’s all.”

Jester hums happily. “Either way, you should tell her. She _totally_ likes you too, the hoodie is the ultimate proof of that.”

“Not when she’s a nice person who would’ve lent it to anyone it isn’t,” Beau counteracts with a humorless smile.

“She _is_ really nice,” Jester admits, “That’s true.”

They both quieten and Beau watches as Yasha lends her shoulder for one of the kids to stabilize themselves against.

 

***

 

It’s the second day of their hiking trip when Yasha notices how much Beau has fallen behind. Concerned, she slows down her own pace and lets one of the other councillors take her place. Eventually, she’s close enough to hear Beau’s labored breathing and see the sweat shining on her skin. It doesn’t look like her walking stick is of much help.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine.” Her breath comes out in small but stubborn wheezes and hisses.

“Do you… want me to carry your bag?” All of the councillors are wearing heavy bags filled with supplies, Beau included, and whatever is wrong, the backpack can’t be helping it. Now that she is closer, Yasha notices that same limp she saw the other night.

Beau grits her teeth. “No. ‘m fine.”

Personally, Yasha can hardly feel the weight of her own bag, and the sheen on Beau’s paling skin is concerning, so she asks, “ _May_ I carry your bag?" 

“ _No_. I’ve,” heavy breath, “got this.”

“Okay,” Yasha concedes, but she keeps walking right next to Beau.

About thirty labored breaths later, Beau says, “Fine. Take the fucking thing,” and abruptly stops.

Without a word of mockery or victory, Yasha pulls the bag off of her and swings it behind her shoulders so it rests against her neck and head, right on top of the other bag, but horizontal. She keeps it from falling by holding onto the straps on either side of her neck.

It eases Beau’s struggle somewhat, which is a relief. They even increase their speed a little, and it seems like Beau can utilize her walking stick more efficiently, too. Color returns to her cheeks. It doesn’t look like she’s about to pass out any second.

“Do you like hiking?”

“Huh?” Yasha asks, turning her head to look over at Beau, who’s staring at the ground.

Beau clears her throat. “Do you like hiking?”

Oh. “Uh…” As silence grows between them, so does the awkward tension. “Yes… yes, I suppose I do.”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘suppose’?" 

“Just that… I haven’t done it a lot, but… I like it. It, uh, it seems nice. So far.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Do _you_ like hiking?”

“Normally, sure. I think I just… slept on something wrong last night or something.” Beau pulls a face. “My back’s been hurting like a bitch.”

Yasha frowns. “I saw… was that why… you were limping, the other night? Your back?”

Beau looks genuinely surprised. “Uh. Yeah. I didn’t realize you saw that. Probably made me look like a giant idiot, huh?”

“Sort of,” she agrees. “But only because you shouldn’t have gone swimming with that pain. You shouldn’t have gone hiking, either.” Belatedly, she realizes that this is the most she’s ever said to Beau in one consecutive sentence.

“It’s alright; I’m used to it.”

“I don’t… mean to offend you or… anything, I just mean… you should see a doctor.”

For some reason, that makes Beau snort. “I’ll do that when I’m not still paying off last time’s medical bill.” 

Yasha frowns, not upset with Beau, but embarrassed to have forgotten state of healthcare in America. She has only been here for eight months, and only on a work permit, and luckily she hasn’t needed any medical care so far. “Sorry, I… I forget how it is over here.”

“’Over here’?” Beau echoes, obviously curious. “You’re not from around here?”

“Uh, no, I… I’m from Iceland.”

“Oh. _Wow_.”

That’s sort of the end of that conversation. At least, after that Beau is quiet for a long while and Yasha isn’t comfortable breaking that silence, and not long after they make a stop to eat lunch before continuing the trek. When Beau reaches for her bag, Yasha shakes her head and insists she can carry it the rest of the way. Beau doesn’t argue after Yasha has threatened to physically fight her about it.

 

***

 

The stars are pretty this far away into the wilderness where there’s no light pollution. Beau isn’t normally the kind of girl to just stare at the stars for hours, but lying down has never felt better and the stars are _really_ pretty. Oh, and Yasha has settled down right next to her and the entire right side of her body feels electric from the slight _hint_ of her body heat. But that’s of course just a detail.

“I texted Caleb.” Beau hums in response, not sure why Yasha is telling her this, but too pleased that she _is_ to question it. “He’ll pick you up tomorrow morning and drive you back to camp.”

“What??” She feels betrayed. Pushing herself up on her elbow, she looks down at Yasha, who’s still staring serenely at the sky. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I’m sorry. But we’re supposed to watch the kids… and I can’t do that if I’m watching you. It’s what’s best for all of us.” 

Anger ignites in the pit of Beau’s stomach, lighting up her insides. Fire burns her tongue. All of her words are scorched. “Stop treating me like a child! I’m fine! And even if I weren’t, it’s _my_ life and _my_ decision!”

She wants Yasha to yell back at her. She wants her to scream and curse and call her names. But Yasha just lies there. Still. Statue-like. Not even _looking_ at her. Just one blue eye and one brown fixed on the sky above.

It’s exactly what her father always did and for that split second, Beau hates her.

“I’m taking a piss,” she grumbles and gets up.

When she gets back, Yasha has moved to the other edge of camp, where she calmly whittles on a stick.

 

***

 

They don’t talk much after that incident. Well, that is, they go back to their regular amount of talking, which for Yasha never is a lot, but she does feel pointedly ignored. At least for a day. After that, Beau seems to soften a little, but now it’s just awkward. Yasha knows she was in the wrong for texting Caleb without asking Beau; she _did_ treat Beau like a kid, but she apologized after that first day of silence, so now she isn’t sure what to do. It would be easier if Beau refused the apology, but she accepted it, so logically everything should be back to … however things were before.

But it isn’t. And Yasha is sort of disappointed.

She vents to Molly over the phone after a full week has passed. Molly laughs at her, but in a soft way that tells her he doesn’t actually think she’s ridiculous or weird. “I’m impressed you’ve found someone just as socially awkward as you.”

“I haven’t ‘found someone’, Molly. Beau and I are… barely acquaintances.”

“And it’ll stay like that until you realize it takes two to tango. Or bone. Whichever one you wanna do with miss Beau.”

“ _Molly_.”

“If it takes giving you a seminar in flirting, I _will_ do it.”

“I’m hanging up on you,” she warns, “bye.” The phone beeps as she hits the red circle on the touch screen, and she lets out a long sigh.

“Wow, your girlfriend sounds like a bitch.”

The voice startles her. Heat thumping wildly, she spins around and prepares her fists for a fight. Her body freezes when she sees Beau standing there, hands awkwardly hooked into the shallow pockets on her pants. They’re the only pair of pants Yasha has seen Beau wear that are in fact intended for women, hence the shallow pockets.

“Sorry,” Beau adds, shaking her head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t say shit like that. I’m just sayin’… if she’s giving you a hard time over _me_ , she must be _really_ jealous. And I sorta have experience with possessive girlfriends.”

Yasha blinks. This whole situation still doesn’t make sense to her. Especially not when Beau is wearing a cropped hoodie, revealing _just_ an inch of smooth skin, sprinkled with both smooth, light hairs and coarse, dark ones. This suggestion that Beau might be sporting a happy trail nearly gives Yasha a heatstroke.

Beau crosses her arms over her chest, making Yasha aware of how much she’s staring. Feeling as though she must be as red as a tomato, she quickly looks back up at Beau’s face, which is contorted in an odd grimace.

“Experience?” is all she can think to echo.

Beau nods and walks a little closer, then leans against the tree. “Sure. I’ve had my fair share of bad relationships. A lot of people find a relationship when what they should really have been looking for is a therapist.” When Yasha doesn’t say anything, she rushes to add, “Not that I’m judging anyone who needs a therapist, ‘cause, hey man, we’ve all been there, but that’s no excuse to get into a relationship when all you’re gonna be doing is treat your girlfriend like shit ‘cause you haven’t figured out yourself.”

“That’s…” What does one say to a passionate speech like that, especially when they’re standing this close, all alone, under a tree whose pretty leaves dance in the wind? “True.”

“So… is she Icelandic, too, or is she American?" 

Yasha frowns, still confused. “Who?”

“Your girlfriend. Molly.”

She stares at Beau for a second. Then she laughs. A brief flicker of betrayal and hurt crosses Beau’s face, but then it seems like she’s too intrigued by Yasha’s laughter to stay mad. “What??” she asks, her own voice bubbling with the beginning of a laugh. “What is it?”

“Molly,” Yasha begins, wheezing a little, which is so unlike her that she feels embarrassed, “is not my girlfriend. He’s just my friend.”

It’s Beau’s turn to turn red. “ _Oh_. Fuck.” Yasha nods, body still shaking a little with mirth. “Sorry for, uh, calling him a bitch and all that.”

“I’m… more touched than offended.”

“Hey, man,” Beau says, clearly doing her best to get rid of her embarrassment, but failing miserably by turning it into awkwardness, “somebody has to let you know what you’re worth, right?" 

The tips of Yasha’s ears redden, but she’s not sure Beau notices.

 

***

 

“I knew I should’ve brought my phone,” Beau laments as she follows Yasha through another patch of shrubbery. They’ve lost their way after retrieving the ribbons marking the different posts on their orientation race. With them, they have a map, but neither of them have gone this far into the sprawling forest before, and Beau is shit at reading maps anyway. It seems like Yasha is struggling too, but she’s too nice to admit to Beau that they’re absolutely fucking lost because she knows it’ll drain Beau of her remaining energy.

They at least find a little clearing and Yasha suggests they eat the little food they brought and sit down for a bit. Beau is pretty sure she’s mostly insisting because of Beau’s back, which is still being quite the bitch, but she doesn’t have enough energy left to argue.

“You can eat my food,” Yasha offers, head bent over her map. “I’m not hungry.” They’re sitting so close to each other that Yasha’s hair brushes Beau’s shoulder every once in a while when the wind takes a hold of it and tosses it around. 

“Thanks, but I’d rather not have to drag your body back to camp,” Beau replies drily.

“You don’t think you could carry me?”

That sounds like a challenge to Beau. Puffing out her chest, she asks, “You wanna test that?”

Yasha looks up from the map. “Uh… I’m not sure that’s a good idea…”

“Scared I could take you?”

That brings out a little smile and Beau feels like she just won the lottery. “Terrified.”

Now _that’s_ a challenge! Throwing aside the bag she’s been digging in to find lunch, and pulling the map out of Yasha’s hands, Beau pounces: she leaps up on Yasha’s lap and wraps her fingers around her biceps to force her arms down. Yasha’s arms and head hit the ground. Wasting no time, Beau arranges herself so her elbows are pressed into Yasha’s arms, and her knees into Yasha’s thighs.

Victorious, she grins down at her opponent and is proud to see Yasha heaving for air, eyes wide and mouth just slightly agape. A few hairs are strewn across her face, but she doesn’t seem to notice; she only has eyes for Beau, who stares back with mischief in hers.

_Told you so._  

The words are right there, on the tip of her tongue. But they’re swept away when soft, wet lips crash into hers, teeth only barely managing not to meet. It takes Beau a solid second to realize what’s going on, until she realizes those are _Yasha’s_ lips, and that’s _Yasha_ hungrily pursuing her, and her grip must have loosened in surprise because those are _Yasha’s_ hands on the back of her head, threading through the buzzed hair there.

Letting out an involuntary sound, Beau relaxes into the kiss. Yasha tastes like coffee from hours ago and smells like sweat and dirt and those are not things Beau would’ve ever thought she’d find attractive but right now she wouldn’t trade anything for perfume or mints because this is _real_ , this is how Yasha tastes and smells and _is_ , and Beau suddenly thinks maybe it isn’t so bad that she herself smells of weed, a smell that clings to the jacket she’s wearing, and must taste similarly bad because Yasha just feels _right_ and maybe that means Beau feels right to Yasha, too, despite all of that, and maybe Yasha even agrees that because this is _real_ , it’s so much better and _hotter_ than anything a floral perfume or a piece of gum would’ve added to the sensation.

There’s something erotic about being _real_ , rather than hung up on a performance put on for men.

When she pulls away for a second to breathe, Yasha whimpers into her mouth, and Beau doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to form coherent thought again. She dives back in for another kiss, fingers trailing over Yasha’s face as she does.

After several minutes of fast tongues and hard lips, Yasha manages to get out a: “This is… _great_ but… we’re really lost.”

“Shit… you’re right,” Beau agrees as she straightens her back, but stays on Yasha’s lap. “We should probably get goin’ before the sun goes down, huh?”

“Yeah,” Yasha sighs and slides her hands along Beau’s legs.

“But, uh, rain check on this?” Beau gestures between the two of them, and Yasha smiles softly.

“Sure,” she agrees, “rain check.”

**Author's Note:**

> just wanted to mention that the conversation between beau and yasha about healthcare is based completely on my experience as a scandinavian dating an american who should really go to the doctor sometimes. find me on tumblr @momlymauk.


End file.
